


A Beautiful Mess

by BlossomsintheMist



Series: Steve/Tony Kinktober 2017 [4]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Tony, Bottom Tony Stark, Come Eating, Comeplay, Creampie, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Implied/Referenced Unsafe Sex, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Mentions of Unhealthy Relationships, Oral Sex, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sexual Content, Top Steve, Top Steve Rogers, mentions of past relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 00:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12332247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: Steve, though—sex with Steve was nothing like that.  It was nothing like any of that.  It was a new experience for Tony, in a lot of ways, not just the lack of protection, but—well, he’d never imagined how much more intense, how much more intimate, it would feel, not just because they didn’t use condoms, but because of—because of everything.Written for Day Seven of Kinktober: Creampie.





	A Beautiful Mess

They’d never actually used a condom.  The first time, Tony had been getting one out and everything, when Steve had reached up, caught his hand, and said, a little sheepishly, almost shy, “I can’t actually get anything, so … I mean, if you wouldn’t mind.”  He’d taken it out of Tony’s hand as Tony stared at him, caught off guard and not quite able to process that Steve actually wanted him to go bare, trying to remember the last time he hadn’t used a condom.  Finally he’d said something, some kind of agreement, and Steve had smiled up at him, murmured huskily, “Let me get your dick wet,” and eased his mouth over the tip of Tony’s dick, swallowing around Tony and the _feel_ of it, so hot and wet and perfect, had had Tony’s hands clenching in Steve’s soft hair, Tony struggling not to thrust up into his mouth, into that perfect warm wetness and soft suction around his cock.

(Afterward, they’d both been lying on Tony’s bed, panting and sated and, at least in Tony’s case, trying to deal with the fact that that had been the best sex he’d ever had, that for all his experience he’d never come inside anyone bare before and trying not to feel a little guilty about it, and trying not to freak out in case Steve never wanted him again, or hadn’t enjoyed it as much, or couldn’t meet his eyes, or didn’t want him even as a friend afterwards, and he’d said, “I don’t know if you, uh, care about this, but I am, though.  Clean.  I just got tested.  I’m careful about it, I promise.”  Steve had moved his hand down from where he’d thrown his arm over his eyes, panting, and just smiled at him and said, “I wasn’t worried.”  Tony had said, “I just didn’t want you to think …” not sure how to put it into words, what he was afraid Steve thought of him, Steve who had been there at the worst of his lonely acting out with Jan, Steve who had seen the very worst of his drunkenness spiraling out of control, and Steve just smiled and shook his head and said, “You were right, Tony, I don’t care,” and rolled over and kissed him again, and that distracted Tony pretty thoroughly.)

The fact was, as much as the tabloids loved to proclaim that Tony had a secret love child or forty, Tony had always been incredibly careful.  It was one of the only things his old man had ever bothered to tell him about sex—that he better not end up having a kid with “some whore,” in Howard’s charming phraseology, and that if he didn’t use protection he would live to regret it.  He’d never been inside a woman without protection, never had anyone give him a blowjob without putting on a condom first.

Of course, Howard hadn’t had a clue about Tony’s interest in cock on top of his interest in vagina, and it had taken Tony an embarrassingly long time to realize that he should be insisting on condoms for all those blowjobs in the back rooms of those parties where the alcohol flowed freely and there was always someone happy to take advantage of Tony’s warm, willing mouth, and Tony couldn’t quite remember all the times he’d had sex when he’d been drinking, so he wasn’t sure, and things could always slip through the cracks.  So he’d gotten himself tested, regularly, ever since Sunset had made him get it done and wait for the results before she’d let him touch her with more than his hand.  The last time he’d had a man bare inside him had been Ty, both because he’d trusted Ty and because they’d started fooling around before he was old enough to know better. That he remembered, anyway.  He had dim recollections of a sex party when he’d been way too damn drunk where a man had come inside him without his permission, the feeling of wet spend leaking out of him and Tony, drunk and stupid, swiping at his ass with his fingers and wondering dazedly where the hell the condom had gone before his mouth was pulled down on another cock, the taste of musk and precome on his tongue that must have meant that cock was bare, too—

See, that was why he’d been so careful to get tested.  But he was clean, even if it had had more to do with luck than anything else for a while there.

Steve, though—sex with Steve was nothing like that.  It was nothing like any of that.  It was a new experience for Tony, in a lot of ways, not just the lack of protection, but—well, he’d never imagined how much more intense, how much more intimate, it would feel, not just because they didn’t use condoms, but because of—because of everything.  Because of how much Tony trusted him, really, even when it made him feel vulnerable and exposed, made his face feel hot, just to think about it.

And especially when they did it like this.  Steve’s hand was on the back of his neck, holding Tony face down against the pillows of his own bed as he slid in and out of him through the slick mess of come he’d already left inside Tony’s ass.  Tony dug his hands into the pillows, gripping them tightly, curling his fingers into fists, his eyes closed, as he just concentrated on how it felt.  Which was mainly wet, squelching and slick and messy. He felt warm and leaking and open, probably more open than he really was, could feel the wet trickle of come as it dripped down his own balls, over his thighs, every time Steve pulled out of him a little and shoved back in.  His own dick was mostly hard, rubbing against the bed as Steve thrust into him, rocking him against the coverlet, pushing the sensitive, throbbing tip, the shaft, against the fabric teasingly with every stroke deep inside Tony’s body.

Tony wasn’t good at staying hard during anal sex, especially not staying fully hard; he’d told Steve to take care of him later, but that didn’t mean he was enjoying this any less. It wasn’t really about the pleasure of Steve inside him, even though he enjoyed the shivering jolt of bright heat that went straight to his cock then lingered warm in his chest, his belly, his every sensitive place from his nipples to the insides of his thighs, every time Steve’s big blunt cock rubbed along his prostate.  What Tony found himself focusing on was the warmth of Steve inside, the incredible sweet slick slide of the friction of skin on skin, Steve’s radiant velvety steel-firm heat against his sensitive inner walls, the intimacy of the feeling that made Tony feel like something was crawling, shivering along, under his skin, made his face feel hot and his skin feel hot and exposed, his insides ache with the feeling that Steve knew him, Steve could _see_ him (and the self-conscious fear that still sent through him, deep and instinctive, despite all the chances Steve had had to reject him, all the chances he hadn’t taken, not yet).  The strength and control in the hand Steve had clamped onto the back of his neck, pressing his face down into the pillow as Tony panted, open-mouthed, against his own expensive Egyptian cotton percale pillowcases, and not letting him up.  (He always had Steve fuck him on the cotton or the linen sheets when they did it like this; the silk was too hard to clean to justify letting it get all over with come and fluids every week.  Once in a while was fine, but—the cotton always felt like a better choice.)

Steve slowed after a moment, gasped out, “Can you breathe okay?”

Tony groaned, nodded. “This is very breathable cotton,” he managed to gasp out, after a second, his mouth catching on the soft fabric. His own mouth still tasted like Steve, like come, musky and salty-sweet, from when Steve had come in it earlier and he’d swallowed his come eagerly, before they’d started any of this with the bed and Steve’s dick in Tony’s ass, kind of a little aperitif.

Steve laughed, and it vibrated through him, through Tony’s whole body where Steve was braced over him, deep inside him, making Tony moan.  “Just as long as you’re okay,” he said, and his hand came up, stroked at the back of Tony’s hand, down over his wrist.  “If you need to stop, get my attention, okay?  Kick me in the balls if you have to.”

Tony nodded.  “I can do that,” he mumbled, though obviously he wouldn’t kick Steve in the balls.  It would make Steve feel better about it, though, and get back to the fucking him part of the agenda.

“Okay, good,” Steve said, and then he was back to the rapid thrusts into Tony’s body, deep, hard and fast and rough, the feeling one of incredible pressure deep inside of Tony with every forward thrust, a gutpunch that left him aching and full and trembling, leaving him feeling hot and heavy and swollen and sensitive and overwhelmed from the inside out, every thrust shaking Tony under him, rubbing him back and forth over the bed, his ass aching as Steve’s hips snapped against them with a heavy thud each time, as Steve ground himself against them.  It was utterly overwhelming, like Tony forgot how to breathe with each deep thrust into his body, and Tony could feel his mouth open, the drool soaking the fine weave of the pillowcase under his mouth, the flush that swept over him in a warm, undulating rush whenever Steve pushed into him to the hilt.  


Tony probably wouldn’t come from this; he almost never did, but that wasn’t really the attraction of it. The best part—the part that surprised him, how he couldn’t get enough of it—was feeling Steve inside him, overwhelming and huge, warm and invasive, deep inside his body, almost too big to be pleasurable, but all the more vivid, all the more _real_ for all that.  To feel Steve come inside him was—well, it was wet, and sticky, and a little gross, and a little mortifying; it always made Tony feel hot in the face, embarrassed and hyper-aware of his body, of any come that leaked out of him or trickled down his legs, of the looseness of his hole after it was fucked, but that—that was what was good about it, too.  It was messy and earthy and vulgar and real and everything that made him feel self-conscious about sex, and he loved that Steve made him like it so much, made him feel so—so appreciated, while he did it, like Tony’s body was real and interesting and desirable the way it was, even when it was sweaty and overwhelmed and maybe a little glitchy.  Tony had never really enjoyed his ass being fucked before he got with Steve—he’d tried to get into it with Ty and failed, and done his best to enjoy pegging whenever his girlfriends had wanted to do it.  Jim had just taken him at his word that he didn’t really enjoy anal and had never pushed him on it.  Dildos were a little better, but they had always felt like a lot of work for a pretty limited result.

Steve fucking him was a total game-changer.  With Steve, the work was the best part, and it didn’t really matter if his prostate wasn’t the most sensitive thing in the world, because that wasn’t what Tony cared about at all—it was the sensations of it, the feeling of Steve inside him, the overwhelming immediate thumping visceral heat of it all.  Steve was so big that however gentle he was it was completely overwhelming, stretching Tony, opening him, making him ache and throb around the huge hot weight of his cock.

He could feel it when Steve was getting close, he started breathing more unsteadily, his fingers worked and shivered and dug in tighter against Tony’s skin, his thrusts changed rhythm and his cock throbbed inside Tony’s body, hot and demanding. He pushed Tony into the bed harder, gasping, his hips speeding up even as he sagged down over him, left little fluttering kisses up and down Tony’s spine.  Tony moaned, unable to help it, rolling his hips and pushing his own cock into the covers, inexpressibly turned on just by the whole idea that Steve was enjoying him that much, that he was about to come inside Tony, by each little soft wet flicker of sensation over his spine that meant Steve cared enough to kiss him, to caress him, on the verge of his own climax. He squeezed down on Steve, worked himself around him, tried to tighten his internal muscles down on Steve’s cock every time he pulled back, giving him a long, slow squeeze, and loosen when he pushed back in.  The covers, soft as they were, felt scratchy and rough on his sensitive cock, made it prickle and tingle and ache, just a little raw.  


Steve gasped, moaned, then moaned Tony’s name, and a second later, his thrusts stuttered and his breathing skipped.  Tony could feel the warmth of Steve’s come inside him, the hot wet slickness added to what was already inside him, and groaned, feeling himself go hot, especially in his face.  He pushed his face down, rolled it against the pillow, hiding instinctively despite himself from the hot self-consciousness pulsing through him, even as it was met equally by pleasure.  Steve felt good, throbbing and thick inside him, coming so much and so copiously that Tony knew he was painting his insides with wet, but more than that, it was the knowledge that the way Steve was shuddering and groaning over him, against his back, his hips still thrusting unsteadily, his cock moving in uncoordinated jabs through Tony’s insides, was because of him.  He rocked back to meet him, keeping his movements slow and encouraging, just wanting to help Steve enjoy the rest of his climax.  When Steve’s hand slipped damply off the back of Tony’s neck and his weight came down over him fully, pushing Tony down into the bed so hard that now he really did have to wriggle his head to the side and down to get a full breath, Tony took it as his cue to stop moving and just let himself lie there, very aware of his own throbbing cock and the weight and heft of Steve inside him, the wetness trickling out of him and the way his hole felt damp with foamy come around Steve’s cock from how he’d been fucking him, stirring it up in there or whatever like a come latte.

Tony snorted at the thought and buried his eyes in the pillow, keeping his chin tucked down so he could breathe, and let himself lie there and luxuriate in the feeling of Steve warm and heavy and sated over him, pressing him down, covering him entirely, still deep inside his body.  He was aware of the saliva all over his own chin now, too, and wished he could wipe it off, but it was just too much effort to try to shift in the position he was in to make it happen, so he just lay there instead and tried not to drool anymore.

After a long few moments, Steve moved, nuzzling over Tony’s neck, pressing a kiss just under his hairline. “Oh, Tony,” he murmured.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been with someone like you.”

“There are a lot of ways to take that, stud,” Tony said into the bed, and his voice came out soft, low.

“I only mean the good ones,” Steve said.  His voice was thick, sex-rough and husky, still slurring a little.  “I promise.”  His hand came up, stroked down over Tony’s back, from his shoulder to the curve of his waist, the line of his hip.  “You let me come inside you twice.  After you gave me a blowjob.”  


“You can come inside me again, if you want,” Tony murmured.  “I’m right here.  Ass at your disposal.”

“You’re too generous,” Steve said, and there was a disbelieving grin in his voice.  Tony would have said that was impossible, that there was no way anyone could ever be too generous to Steve.  His hand rubbed gently up over Tony’s back again, against the curve of his spine.  “No, no, I think I’m done.”

“Still hard,” Tony pointed out against the pillowcase.

“Well, yeah,” Steve said breathlessly, “I’m inside you.  But still, I think I’m done for tonight.  I’m good. Honestly.”

“Okay,” Tony murmured, because he really was tired, after Steve coming inside him twice, and he would like to get off, the want twisting tighter and tighter in his belly even as he lay there and Steve stroked his back with his hand, like just that, the callused heel of Steve’s big palm stroking up and down over his sweaty back, was enough to make him harder than three hours of porn and a little blue pill (that probably would have been a bad idea anyway with his heart, according to his doctors).  “If you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure,” Steve said, and he sounded it.  He groaned as he pushed himself up on his elbows, pressed a soft kiss to the back of Tony’s neck, making him smile and push his head further down in the pillow, then rocked back and pulled out of Tony entirely.

Tony groaned as he did, lifting his head up and dropping it down against the pillow again as his mouth eased open, feeling wet and slick with saliva again.  It always seemed to take forever for Steve to pull out of him; even when he wasn’t fully hard his dick went on for what felt like a day and a half, and he was hard now, or close enough to it that the feeling of it dragging along Tony’s hot, sensitive insides made him squirm, moan and buck his hips helplessly at the overwhelming feeling.  Steve murmured, “Shh,” soothing and soft, and drew his hands down along Tony’s sides, as if to soothe the ache of his heavy dick inside Tony’s body, sliding out of his sore, strained hole (and damn if it didn’t do the trick, no matter how Tony’s stretched rim throbbed as Steve’s dick finally slipped out of him, spasmed weakly as it struggled to close after the way Steve had fucked him open and dripping).  Tony could feel the come dripping out of him, still warm from Steve’s body and his own as it dripped down over his balls, and groaned, bit down on the soft cotton of the pillowcase, sucking the already wet fabric between his lips.

He felt Steve slump to one side, beside him, but he knew he was still looking at, watching, Tony’s wet, fluttering asshole, could feel his eyes on him.  Sure enough, after just a second or two had passed, Tony still trying to catch his breath, he felt Steve’s finger slide down over his soft, swollen hole, puffy and trembling, down through the come dribbling out of him. Tony sucked in his breath, bit down and sucked more cotton into his mouth, shivered at the touch, startled by how vivid the sensation was, not quite pleasure and not quite pain. “You’ve got the prettiest rear end I’ve ever seen,” Steve said, sounding satisfied, his voice soft and somehow wondering.

“Don’t look in the mirror much, huh?” Tony mumbled into the pillow.

“Shut up,” Steve said, laughing.  “Yours is nicer’n mine, though it’s nice of you to say so.”  His finger circled around Tony’s puffy, aching rim slowly, and Tony let him, because he knew Steve loved to watch him leaking, that he loved his used goddamn ass, so he just lay there and took in a few deep breaths and let him rub his fingers over Tony’s soft hole, slip them into the slight gape where the sides were just a bit too slack to close, pushed him open wider, even as swollen as the rim of him was, just to watch him dribble out more come.

And that was why Steve didn’t fuck him on the silk sheets.  And even as he felt himself going hot all over, flushing furiously, hid his face in the pillow, Tony didn’t mind.  Steve loved it, got off on it, how could he begrudge him that?

Steve leaned in, pressed a kiss to the back of Tony’s shoulder, still fingering Tony’s used, puffy asshole lightly, softly, until it was prickling with overworked sensation, tender and throbbing with a sensitized, needy, almost pleasurable ache under his fingers.  “Push it out,” he murmured against Tony’s skin, and Tony just got one arm down to support himself against the bed and clenched his stomach, his quivering internal muscles, to obey.

He could feel the warmth and the wet as it oozed out of him and groaned, not sure if he was disgusted or turned on by the sensation or both.  Well, definitely both.  Especially as Steve groaned like the sight of it had gone straight to his dick, like he was dying it was so hot, and his fingers swiped down through it, lingering over Tony’s perineum, his balls, circling in the warm slickness.  “God, Tony,” he moaned.  “God, you’re good to me.”

Tony smiled a little self-consciously, feeling warmth build in his stomach at that.  It was the least he could do after all, wasn’t it?  It wasn’t much.  Just indulging a kink Steve had for his ass all used up and covered in come and fucked soft and open.  It wasn’t like it hurt him at all, no matter how self-conscious it made him, or how pleasantly his ass ached, or how strangely open and sensitized and gaping loose he felt.

Steve played with the come, with his asshole and sore, trembling rim a while longer, and then his fingers started to slow, tracing down Tony’s thigh.  Tony pushed himself up on his elbows, then, rocked up just a little onto his knees, angling himself so that gravity pulled more of Steve’s come out of him, dripping down over his thighs.  Steve sucked in his breath, and he felt him follow a wet droplet of it with his fingers, before they came up and started to play with Tony’s hole a little more, pushing at the tingling swollen flesh, teasing the tip against that bit of open looseness until it slipped gently, easily inside.  Tony just stayed there, gasping for breath as Steve teased at him and his body tingled and flared with sensation, trembling pleasure, that throbbing ache, trying to breathe evenly.

It was a good few minutes before Steve’s arm came up, slid around Tony’s belly, and he tugged him down, back into the bed, so that they ended up both lying on their backs, Tony tucked in against Steve’s side, lying so their heads were together.  Steve smiled at him, and Tony ducked his head, smiling and looking away, knowing his face had to be sweaty and red and a drool-covered mess and not quite able to face the fullness of affection shining in Steve’s bright blue eyes.

“Mmm,” Steve said, and nuzzled in against Tony’s shoulder, against his neck.  “Now, what can I do for you, huh?”  His fingers trailed down over Tony’s shuddering belly, his palm slid softly, teasingly, over Tony’s mostly hard cock before he closed his hand and tugged gently at the flushed, hot skin.  Tony gasped, dragged in a ragged breath, sucked his saliva back behind his teeth as the low level needy ache in his cock jumped into a gut-deep throb of pleasure.  Of course, a second later Steve’s hand had softened, his fingers sliding gently over the tip, then slid gently down Tony’s shaft, cupped his balls, lifting them and fondling gently, and Tony was left gasping, whining a little in protest despite himself, before Steve slipped them back into his hole.

The sensation was so vivid, so slick and invasive and intense against the sensitized skin, that Tony gasped, his head rocking back against Steve’s shoulder as his feet slipped helplessly on the bed, looking for some kind of purchase, and Steve pressed his fingers in a little more deeply.  A second later, Steve was kissing Tony’s neck, soft and damp and gently, worshipfully, at the soft base of his throat, leaning over him, then moving down his chest.  Tony was so lost in the feeling of Steve’s fingers pumping gently in his hole that he only realized what Steve was doing a few seconds before Steve’s mouth closed gently over his cock.

Tony gave what had to be an embarrassing sound, but he barely heard it, arched up into Steve’s mouth as that incredible warm, wet pleasure engulfed his aching, needy cock. Steve just hummed, happily, slid his tongue against the sensitive head of Tony’s cock until he cried out, couldn’t help himself, a helpless, broken, pathetic little whimper of a cry, brought his other hand up and thumbed at Tony’s balls, stroking them gently as he sucked on Tony’s dick.  His other hand kept circling his fingers inside of Tony, and come had to be gushing, squelching and wet, out of Tony’s soft hole now, covering Steve’s hand in his own spunk, but he didn’t seem to mind, just pressing in with his fingers until he found that spot that made Tony’s whole body shudder and flinch, light up, with an almost painful pleasure, his prostate, and circled them there gently, almost coaxing.  He kept sucking on Tony’s cock, and the pleasure sharpened, crested, grew sweeter and brighter and more intense until all Tony could do was shut his eyes tight and arch back into the bed, pressing against Steve where their skin touched, sweaty and warm, and pant and try not to cry out too loudly.  Steve’s fingers kept fondling at his balls, his thumb slipping down to circle soft but firm against Tony’s perineum, and Tony felt something fracture beautifully and not at all painfully inside him, breaking him open until the pleasure just washed over him in loose waves, meeting no resistance and carrying him away with it, even as it built and built and built.

When he came, it was just a matter of him sliding under that wave of pleasure, feeling it bright in his head, his skin, his belly, his cock, hot and bright and sharply beautiful, and Steve’s mouth was still so soft and gentle, sucking on his cock, and God, he was swallowing, and Tony thought he might be gripping Steve’s hair, might be arching and making a series of desperate, gasping noises, _ah ah ah_ and punched out, whimpering, gasping moans, high-pitched and helpless sounding, but he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t care. The pleasure got very bright then, and Tony went with it as bright light shattered behind his eyes and too many sweet hot sharp sensations swept over him to count.

He came back to himself slowly, almost softly, to feel Steve still sucking sweetly, dutifully, at his cock, his thumb still sliding in gentle circles at Tony’s perineum, even though his fingers had stilled on Tony’s balls, inside his body.  Tony moaned, unable to think, just feeling the soft aftershocks of pleasure through his dick, and then Steve looked up at him, smiled and moved off his cock, letting it slip from his lips, hot and damp, to lie against Tony's thigh.

“That sounded good,” Steve said, still smiling up at him, moving his hand off Tony’s groin to cover his thigh and rub gently against the skin.

It took Tony a long few moments to remember how to talk.  His body felt loose, relaxed, boneless and melted against the bed.  “It was good, sweetheart,” he mumbled.

Steve beamed up at him. “Good,” he said.  “You look so beautiful when you come.”

Tony thought he might have flushed.  “Oh, you,” he said groggily.  “Sweet-talker.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Steve said.  “I’m a real flatterer.”  He leaned up, fingers still deep in Tony’s body, to press a soft kiss in against his mouth, and Tony sighed and kissed him back.  The kiss was sweet and slow and Steve tasted strangely of Tony’s come, and the bitter, musky taste should have been gross but wasn’t; it tasted good, intimate and somehow sweet with it.  “I can’t believe you let me make such a mess of you,” Steve murmured against his lips.

“I don’t mind,” Tony said, soft and slow and sex-tired.  “Not when it’s you.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve said, his eyes crinkling with his smile, and kissed him again.

“Mmm,” Tony said, hoping Steve realized what Tony meant when he said those things, not only that he meant them, because he did, but everything—everything behind him, everything that made them true, too, and he slid his arms up, curled them around Steve’s shoulders.  They kissed for a while, though Tony wasn’t sure how long, his mind still dazed and stupid with orgasm.  When Steve slid his fingers out of Tony’s body (making him groan and shiver, feeling more come drip down out of him and onto the bed) and slid them, covered in come, into Tony’s mouth, down against his tongue (whispering, “Is this all right?” just before, and Tony just nodded and opened his mouth), Tony just moaned and closed his eyes to suck it off them willingly.

“God, Tony,” Steve said, sounding wondering when he pulled his fingers out of Tony’s mouth, trailed them down, damp, slick, over Tony’s chin, down over his throat.  “You really do let me just mess you up.”

Tony smiled up at him, tiredly, let his eyes open to half-lidded slits.  “What’s the thing you’re always saying?” he said.  “It’s part of you.  So I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Steve said, softly.

Tony smiled, reached up and rubbed his fingers, his thumb, against Steve’s cheek.  “Pretty sure,” he said.

“You’re always so clean down there anyway,” Steve said, and Tony laughed.

“Don’t get carried away,” he said.  “And only when I know you want to knock at my back door, okay?  You have to give me some warning if you want to get into it.  At least if you want me to be sucking anything off your fingers afterwards.”

“I can do that,” Steve said, and kissed him again.  “We should probably clean up,” he said when he pulled away.  


“There’s no rush,” Tony said, and linked his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him down into another kiss.

They had some time, after all, before the come started to dry and it really got disgusting.  And they could always launder the sheets. Tony let Steve push him back down into the pillows, settle down to lie between his legs, and closed his eyes as he arched up into the kiss.  Sure, he wasn’t a fan of the mess.  He hated come drying on his skin.  Steve knew that, and what was even better than that, Steve cared enough to want to clean up right away, even when he preferred to bask in it, enjoy the afterglow, himself.

But some things were just too good to cut short.


End file.
